Pulling her hands from her face she looked at him with a hovering brow. “Do you know how many of us there are? Is there any way to pinpoint the mixed signals? See if there were any new ones in December?”
“Fifty-two,” he responded flatly, near absent-mindedly as he continued pacing with his brows furrowed, eyes multitasked by the lines of his latest encryption module, pausing only to add his more conservative acknowledgments of margins for human or technological error. “Give or take.” Blinking aside the code, though with brows still furrowed, he turned to her with a soft sigh, mildly annoyed that he hadn't thought of that: cross-referencing their database of pinpointed signals -- the known 'supers' that he'd been tracking -- with potential newbies. Smart ones.
Mumbling to himself, the holograph of the message flickered into two adjacently divided screens, the second projection providing a mapped overview of the Bay Area that in a few moments began blinking fifty-four dotted markers. “The data isn't available in real-time... Triangulating these signals takes more resources than we have at our present disposal... But these are the estimations we can gather.”
Fifty-two felt small. Later, she’d want to see the data that showed an increase and at what rate. What a decline could possibly mean, not only for them but as a collective group. For now, however, her thoughts focused on narrowing down a culprit, if it wasn’t the trick she’d mentioned. She was no scientist but it was the sort of scenario she could sink her teeth into.
Peering at the map, the pads of her human fingers tapped at her chin again in thought. “How many of these fifty-two could you account for?” Not exactly Ms. Social, she could list the superhero types she’d met on one hand. All with some sort of ties to her host. “It’s a possibility that you don’t know them ..but he does. Your boy. It’s how I met all the supes I know--”
At close to the speed of her thoughts, the desk's transmitters were soon projecting profiles of every contact in the area known by either of their hosts -- the ones who'd made the intersectional cut when it came to the tracked signals -- the modest office space set aglow from the wall of turquoise hues.
“Nathan and Isla Wilson-- We've met them-- They're from the other world. He reminds me of Frank Castle, and she's known as the Black Canary--” He paused, deciding against vocalizing what could easily be ascertained from the data on the screens. “I've been tracking all of them... None seem... Newbie.”
In the back of his mind, he wondered if now was a good time to mention some of the others, the other people of interest -- both their interest -- whom he'd been monitoring. Stark, Parker, Drew, Danvers... The big hitters from their universe. The occasional associates they had in common.
Her focus bounced from profile to profile, her own abandoned stash of news articles and notepad of suspicion scribbling feeling so ridiculously archaic by comparison that she smirked softly. Him and his big brains... the notion of which made her blink and half turn to face him.
“The big brains..” She muttered before speaking more clearly and not merely bits of her thoughts — vaguely aware that it was something he often did. That they might be doing that thing that couples do when they’ve been together a while. Also vaguely pleased. “You and Reed. You’re always saying you’re number three on the smart list. But what about the others? Six and seven? Who are the top ten? At least from our world. We can start there. I figure the nerds can help with one for the other place. I can make it a game — they like games. And after an hour when they’re finished arguing we might actually have a solid ranking to help narrow down the search.” Preferring of course to balance the scales if the scales were legit. Uneasy with the idea of someone having anything .. especially his identity without offering their own.